I glanced at the Core Elders to read their reactions, but nothing about them seemed out of the ordinary. They didn’t need to speak, as they already knew what would happen next. Each one understood the strengths and specialties of the others. After all, the lion was a prime target.

“I’ll handle it,” said one elder. He was the only one with a walking cane, and he looked like every step he walked took effort. “My explosion element is best suited for long-range kills like this.”

He crouched, placed a hand on the wall, and a string of Qi shot out at lightning speed. It traveled across the battlefield, burrowing under the lion. Then a massive stone golem rose behind the beast, wrapping its arms around it from behind.

Explosion element? Then what’s with the stone construct?

Maybe it was a hybrid technique. That was smart.

The lion thrashed, roaring and clawing, and cracks began to spread across the golem’s stone skin. But the elder only smiled.

“Learn your lesson in your next life, beast.”

The stone giant let out a ringing sound, almost like a chime. Before it exploded in a massive blast, forming a mushroom cloud above the battlefield.

When the dust cleared, the lion looked untouched outwardly. But it now lay flat on the ground, unmoving, no longer breathing. The explosion must have driven the flaming arrow deeper and straight into the brain.

“That was a durable enemy,” the elder said, sighing. “I never thought I’d fight again. Even my techniques barely live up to their old reputations.”

Then, I felt another pulse. It was my teacher, Cai Hu, who was preparing another attack using his array.

Maybe I had been panicking for no reason. There were only six Core Formation beasts left that I could sense. We had the upper hand, for now.

But then, as that familiar pressure started to descend again, every intelligent beast froze and looked toward us.

Were they… hesitating?

All except one.

A blue bird with six wings screeched, its voice like metal scraping glass. The air in front of it shimmered and warped.

“Sonic attack!” I yelled, covering my ears. I scanned the others, hoping someone had a counter for it.

But everyone just stood still with brows furrowed, faces calm. They had already sensed it. No one moved to stop it.

When the attack hit, it was much weaker than I’d expected. Definitely not a Core Technique, just a disruption meant to break concentration.

And it worked.

Cai Hu’s array collapsed as the tension in the air dissipated. I clenched my jaw.

I knew his condition. He couldn’t use Level 7 arrays casually. Who knew how long he had prepped for this? And now, mid-battle, he wouldn’t get another chance to prepare for a Level 7 array.

I looked toward Song Song’s father. He had the power to stop that attack, and yet… he hadn’t moved.

His expression remained cold, unreadable.

Unless Song Song was in danger, he didn’t seem interested in lifting a finger.

I turned to Song Song beside me. Her hair shifted with the wind, and when our eyes met, there was a silent understanding between us. We’d never spoken openly about how dangerous her father was, but we both knew.

She gave me a small nod.

Trust her, the nod said.

Hard to do after the reckless stunt she’d just pulled. Charging into the beast wave at the start of the battle? That had been madness.

Still, maybe it was my responsibility to rein her in… I just hadn’t expected her to be that reckless.

“We need to deal with this,” Zun Gon said, brows furrowed into a sharp crease. “I’ll handle it.”

He flew into the air until he was a speck against the sky. Below him, a small ball of fire formed, then rapidly expanded into a burning sun so large it dwarfed the mountain.

The heat that radiated from it turned the snowy field into a summer wasteland. The nearby forest ignited instantly. If not for the sect’s defensive arrays, the mountain itself might’ve caught fire.

A distorted, gurgling voice echoed from within the sun, like someone speaking underwater. Then the massive sun flashed brightly and released dozens of condensed fire beams that shot toward the beast horde like lasers.

One of the beasts—a giant brown wolf—howled in response. A towering earth-colored shield appeared, adorned with the wolf’s emblem.

As the lasers approached, the shield absorbed them. The wolf opened its mouth and sucked them in, the shield growing larger and redder with each impact.

But Zun Gon didn’t stop.

He kept firing.

The brown shield darkened, then took on a glowing crimson hue like heated metal.

Then, with no warning, it exploded.

The wolf beast dismissed the shield just in time to prevent shrapnel from hitting its allies.

But the beams didn’t stop.

They rained down like a crimson storm. Even Core Formation beasts tried to block or dodge, but many were obliterated in one shot.

Zun Gon didn’t just overpower them; he overwhelmed them.

Peak Core Formation. There was a reason he was the de facto leader.

And now, that reason was burning the sky itself.

But despite the overwhelming odds and the fiery path before them, the beasts kept charging. Soon enough, they were at our doorstep, at least the weaker ones, since Zun Gon was holding back some of the stronger Core Formation beasts.

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“It seems like they’re now at our doorstep,” Ye An said, chuckling like a little girl in a horror movie.

She swiped her arm as if waving away a fly.

“Ice Seal,” she muttered.

A chilling cold spread out, and the winter that Zun Gon had seemed to banish returned with a vengeance. The frost raced across the battlefield, freezing everything in its path like a sudden new ice age.

Every beast nearby stopped, frozen in place. Even a couple Core Formation beasts that had slipped past Zun Gon were caught in the frost.

Zun Gon didn’t waste the moment. Two beams of fire erupted from his hands, engulfing the frozen Core Formation beasts Ye An had sealed. The fire lasted long enough to blacken the ground and create a crater. But as the dust cleared, the statues of ice remained completely intact.

Even the attack of a peak Core Formation cultivator hadn’t broken her seal. In a certain way, the seal could also work as a form of defense.

Ye An’s synergy with her ice element was insane to freeze multiple Core Formation beasts like that was no small feat.

“Sorry, Elder Gon,” Ye An said. “To destroy ice, you can’t just melt it. That takes too long. You have to shatter it first.”

She exhaled, and as her breath spread through the air, most of the Foundation Establishment beasts she’d frozen shattered like cheap toys.

With that, most of the Foundation beasts were gone.

Despite the shocking sight, I kept my focus on the battlefield, watching for any signs of Core Techniques being prepared.

In general, the Core Techniques of humans were more nuanced, with more interesting in their variations. Some beasts had complicated techniques too, but most were simpler and brute-force.

With Zun Gon taking the field, the tide of battle turned completely. The monstrous beasts were no longer a wave, but targets and fodder for his overwhelming might. Each sunbeam he created was like a natural disaster given form.

One after another, Core Formation beasts fell. Some were incinerated mid-charge. Others were sliced apart by invisible force before they even sensed death approaching. Even the smarter ones, those who had dodged poison and tried to rally, were burned out of existence the moment they began to retreat.

By the end of it, the battlefield was nothing but a graveyard of twisted flesh and charred bone. The ground was stained in deep red and blackened ash. The sky, once thick with Qi distortions, now hung still and silent above the devastation as evening set in.

Not a single beast remained. Not a single cultivator was lost.

I doubted there would be another beast wave like this for a century, maybe longer. They’d need time to recover, and who knew how many bloodlines were lost today? Beasts relied heavily on bloodlines for the early stages of cultivation, often more than anything else.

I’d never really thought about it before, but… Zun Gon was overwhelmingly powerful against anyone below the Nascent Soul realm. He had single-handedly changed the course of the war.

But just as he was about to unleash another barrage of attacks, likely to ensure no survivors, a dark speck appeared high in the sky above the forest.

I narrowed my eyes, trying to see.

It was humanoid in shape… but too tall. It looked like a three-meter-tall goblin wearing a dark cloak and pants, its chest bare. And stitched into that chest was a red, human-like face scrunched in a permanent expression of disgust.

Oh… shit.

After a certain cultivation level, beasts could live for thousands of years. Certain races even reached tens of thousands. You didn’t get many records on beasts like that, since they usually just stuck to themselves.

But this one… he was in the book. I recalled that page from memory.

Nascent Soul Beast

Nickname: Dark Ruler

Race: ??? (Humanoid?) (Evolved Bat?)

Description: A monstrous beast known for mastering human martial arts and Qi techniques. First seen approximately 1,800 years ago. Suspected origin: another continent. Trapped on this side after the Continental Separation Array was raised. Highly intelligent. Extremely dangerous...

I didn’t need to recall any more.

This wasn’t just some Core Formation freak. This was a Nascent Soul monstrous beast.

We were absolutely fucked.

Was this the guy behind these beast waves?

“Humans really are something,” the beast said. His voice echoed unnaturally, sounding too close for how far he was. “To have come this far. It’s almost a shame I have to destroy you all.”

He sounded casual, like someone deciding what to eat for lunch.

Zun Gon frowned. “Who are you?”

“Just the master of those pets you slaughtered,” the creature replied. “I might not have been particularly fond of them… but I’m not an irresponsible owner.”

Zun Gon didn’t respond immediately. He stood tall on his sun construct, cloak fluttering, eyes locked on the creature in the distance.

I could guess his thoughts.

Nascent Soul beasts weren’t like normal monsters. They were closer to humans in thought, capable of reason, conversation… pride. That made them unpredictable when trying to think of them as mere beasts.

People could even negotiate with them.

But even so–

We were in no shape to face a Nascent Soul beast. Attempting negotiations was our only option.

“Honorable–” Zun Gon began.

Dark Ruler raised his hand, cutting him off with a smile. At the same time, the grafted face on his chest twisted into a deeper scowl, its expression contorted with rage.

“If you can take one of my techniques without passing out, I’ll listen to what you have to say,” the Dark Ruler said, chuckling. “Don’t worry, I’ll also only use my Core Technique.”

Zun Gon didn’t even get the chance to respond.

Dark Ruler raised his hand and released his Qi.

Instantly, the air darkened. A suffocating, malevolent aura smothered the sky, dimming the stars above. It wasn’t just pressure; it was malice, the kind that seeped into your bones. It was the original to the fake and manufactured thing Song Song and I used.

Around the sect, Qi Gathering disciples began to scream. Some wailed and rushed toward the walls, slamming their heads against stone. Others turned on each other, fists and martial techniques flying in madness. One bald disciple clawed at his ear, blood pouring down his face as he tried to rip it off. A few just stood there, muttering to themselves as they tore out their hair.

“Someone knock out the Qi Gathering disciples before they all go insane!” I shouted. Everyone else was still frozen, too stunned by the monstrous presence to react.

Thankfully, one of the elders, the same one I’d sent earlier to test Song San’s poison, acted fast. He exhaled a white mist that drifted over the crowd. Within moments, the disciples collapsed, asleep before they could do more harm to themselves.

A swirling orb of darkness began to form beneath Dark Ruler’s feet.

“Sadly, you’re all just casualties of the heavens’ decree,” he said, calm and casual. “Now, let me introduce you to my Core Technique. I call it... Dark Copy.”

The orb of shadow under his feet pulsed, expanding outward into a sphere of black flames that churned like liquid night. It looked almost identical to Zun Gon’s sun-based technique. An unholy reflection.

Zun Gon didn’t hesitate. He raised his hands and sent a volley of blinding fire pillars surging from his blazing sun toward the Nascent Soul beast. Each flame roared with thundering intensity.

But the Dark Ruler didn’t even blink.

He smiled wide, grotesque, and utterly confident as he fired beams of darkness from his shadow sun.

The clash was instant.

Light and shadow collided in the sky, creating a blinding explosion that turned night to day for a breath. Qi rippled across the sky in violent waves. But in the heart of the clash... Zun Gon began to lose ground.

This wasn’t just another Core Formation cultivator. This was a Nascent Soul Cultivator. A being one step away from immortality.

Zun Gon’s fire was consumed, overwhelmed and devoured by the abyssal force.

Then came the crash.

Zun Gon’s body was hurled through the air like a meteor. He struck the front gate of the sect with a deafening impact, shattering stone and splintering ancient wood. Dust exploded outward. Cracks webbed through the ground and up the gate walls, smoke curling into the sky.

And just like that…

The hero of the battlefield, the sect’s blazing star, had fallen. Instantly.

I glanced toward the gate.

Yes.

He was unconscious.